


somewhere in particular

by misxnthrope_jpg



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: 2004, Boys In Love, Family Issues, Internet Love, M/M, Ryden, WIP, because it is, did i mention this is a draft, don't bully me, really shitty draft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-05-20 05:56:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14888912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misxnthrope_jpg/pseuds/misxnthrope_jpg
Summary: ryan is stuck in a tiny village, brendon is living the "dream" in new york. despite the miles that lie between them, a common interest in eachother is presented.





	1. ✧chapter 1✧

**Author's Note:**

> this story was originally published under my wattpad account "_netizen_". it's still a very messy draft and has a long way to go before being finished.

✦ **ryan's pov** ✦

i'm having another one of those episodes. the ones where i want nothing to do with anything. the one's where i just question everything i've ever done and how all of this will ammount to nothing. these thoughts that my mind is taking the time to process at this exact moment will be forgotten soon. in a year's time i won't remember this day whatosever.

well, maybe i will. i mean today was the day where i found my girlfriend cheating on me with my best friend. maybe in a years time i will forget this. maybe this is just a little bump in the road.

well, that's in a years time, because at the moment i feel as if i've been stabbed with the rustiest knife at the bottom of the sea.

i really thought i could trust jon. we've been besties since birth, been inseperable. it was me, him and spencer. best buddies forever.

spencer, dissapeared a year ago.

jon, back-stabbing asshat.

i have nobody. and honestly, i can't be mad at keltie. i expected this from her. i never really liked her. well, no, i did like her. she's goregeous and talented, but i never loved her. i don't know what i was thinking being associated with her. we're entirely different. but to know that she would cheat on me with jon... that bitch.

as i said, i'm having another one of those episodes. one of those episodes where nothing really matters. my mind is racing so fast i don't have the time to focus on anything. my heart is lazily pounding through my chest, my mouth heaving in the fall breeze as i lay flat on the abandoned dirt road.

it's just past seven and i haven't even bothered to go drop off my things at home. my afterschool consisted of being lugged into the village by the rickety bus, chucking my bag of homework into a ditch and sprinting to this exact location.

this dirt road has been with me as long as jon and spencer, though it's much more trust worthy. everytime i feel like shit i come here. i lie down and wait. what i wait for has been a continous question i ask myself, but so far i have yet to come to a conclusion.

a car to end me? maybe. my eyes cast down the lengthy road only to spot a lone squirel darting across the empty space, scattering dust in it's wake. trees of all sizes surround the sides of the road, an abundance of leaves descending towards the earth. but there is no way in hell a car would decide to come along to visit the grand old village of Leiper's Fork. nobody cares enough about this place to bother.

i stare up to the sky. darkness is spreading across the expanse of blue, clouds fading into the background as the colour shifts. my mind feels crazy and the static like mess that radiates through my brain continues to find it's way to the front of my conciousness. my chest clenches itself up and i feel like i could be sick any moment now.

chaos is spreading through my entire body similar to the fog that has found our village and decided to rest.

minus the burning sensation of hurt that has nestled into my being, tonight is a rather beautiful night. stars begin to dot in the sky, and the breeze has a calming effect to it. it's chilly, but not too chilly. i clutch my favourite leather-jacket to my chest as i stare into the dark abyss that is the sky.

nobody is going to come to get me, and i know that very well. i've spent nights sleeping on this road and nothing ever happens. dad is too drunk or high to be able to tell time let alone keep an eye on his rowdy teen son. nothing ever eventful happens. well, nothing eventful that is to my advantage.

today was certainly an eventful day.

but i don't feel like camping out tonight. these thoughts are all so suffocating and the lingering idea of being eaten alive by these figurative demons... i need to get my mind off of things. i need to focus this betrayal, anger, sadness all these emotions need to go somewhere and they're sure as hell not staying here.

i move into a cross legged postion on the road, running a hand through my greasy hair. showers can go fuck themselves. they're not relaxing i don't give a shit what anyone says.

eventually i pull mysef to stand, throwing on my jacket and heading in the rough direction of my house. i've always been so clouded by emotions that i never really planned out an immediate way home from this deserted road.

after some time i spot my nap-sack by the bus stop, still lying in its original spot. i sling the bag over my shoulder and continue my way home.

\--

the all too familiar bunglalow stands before me with an intimidating glare. it has always been like this. never was very homey or worn in. shocker since i've lived here as long as i can remember. if you didn't know me well you might not believe me.

the house, though having two floors, appears rather small due to the first floor being half built into the ground, half above. our house is built onto a hill, if that helps you visualize things better.

rather than entering through the front door on the main floor i hike up the small hill and sneak around to the back where the window to my room hangs. it takes only a few seconds and a couple maneuvers for me to hoist myself onto the sill and climb inside. i make a point to keep my window unlocked in case something like this happens. this, being my dad drinking. it's a regular occurrence most nights and i'm not taking chances.

it's not like my dad is a bad person. he's not abusive-unless you count his insults-, he's never hurt me gladly. sadly many other's are not faced with such grace, but i prefer to leave him alone when he gets like this. some part of me is still 12. it feels wrong to see him so drunk he passes out. i miss being young when i was so oblivious; when mom was still around.

i shut my window, shielding my room from the cool wind. i toss my bag onto my bed and kick my shoes off by the door. i bring my hand to my face and pause to think for a second. the ache in my chest is so persistent it's almost impossible to deny it's presence. but i'm pretty good at that.

a ding sounds from my laptop. i hum as if it was a person speaking to me, but, alas.

i stumble over to my desk and collaspe into the chair, turning on the electronic and logging into my account.

someone commented on my livejournal. i really couldn't care less now. i ignore the notification and instead switch to my  _msn_  to check on something more important.

**no messages.**

they didn't even try to apologize. i sense my body tense up. no, fuck them, i don't need their apologies. i huff and click through speedily, cursing my slow internet, then proceeding to block both jon and keltie. i don't need you in my fucking life. you're toxic and i don't need that bullshit.

i lean back into my wooden chair and stare at my screen.

After a moment another sound is heard from my computer. i exit MSN and find yet another comment on livejournal.

_click_

**_bdeninmotion_** commented  
_wow this is incredible. i never thought words could string together so easily and just fit and provide such a meaning. i can tell you got a lot of fucking talent._  
_-_ ** _bdeninmotion_** commented  
_are you some kind of poet? i want to know what you're doing with these_

i grin to myself. that's sweet. someone took time out of their day to say something nice. i never usually get any recognition on livejournal, since nobody that i know is very interested in the site, let alone the stuff i do on it. without knowing i find myself typing out a reply.

       ** _weresoryro_** replied to  ** _bdeninmotion_**  
_thanks! i'm glad someone is enjoying my work :) and no i'm not a poet. i use these more for lyrics than anything haha_

i click reply in a swift motion and sit back, reading over what i wrote. yeah, that's a good reply. i lean forward in my seat more and click on this (supposed) boy's profile photo. it takes me to his journal where i find his entries. i feel almost intruding, but nonetheless scroll down through his journal.

his page mostly consists of rants about things and little updates. i can tell from his entries he's in highschool but before i can continue my detective research, a notification is heard once again.

i smile to myself and click away from his journal.

       ** _bdeninmotion_** replied to  ** _weresoryro_**  
sick! do you play anything? i'd looove to hear a song

i chuckle almost hearing the nagging in his voice.

       ** _weresoryro_** replied to  ** _bdeninmotion_**  
_yeah i do. i play guitar and sing sometimes. maybe i could record something? i have a million songs that have never reached the light of day (and some never will, for a good reason lol)_

i can tell you first hand that is not a lie. some of my older stuff soo bad. it's not even funny. i find myself crossing my room and grabbing my acoustic and returning to my chair with it. i strum the strings aimlessly as another ding sounds.

         ** _bdeninmotion_** replied to  ** _weresoryro_**  
                lolzz i can't see any of your work being bad, that seems so bizarre. but i'm looking forward to that song! and don't you forget to upload it or i will murder you!!

i giggle and reach over my guitar to reply.

          ** _weresoryro_** replied to  ** _bdeninmotion_**  
wooah calm down there fiesty, threats over the internet to a stranger!? that could be a little dangerous don't you think ;)

my finger slipped and i regretted it immediately. i'm just joking around, obviously. winky faces aren't that weird anyways. i bit down on my lip. maybe it is weird. yeah, that's fucking weird what the fuck.

            ** _bdeninmotion_** replied to  **weresoryro**  
i'm not so sure there little buddy. i can't picture a small lyricist boy coming after me ;)

thank god he sent one back. i'm not the only weirdo.

            ** _weresoryro_**  replied to  ** _bdeninmotion_**  
_do you have msn? i care quite a bit about the appearance of my journal, and our chat is quite protruding amongst all my "words that string together"_

i smile as only a few messages ago we were talking so formally. now i can make fun of his way of phrasing things earlier.

              ** _bdeninmotion_** replied to  ** _weresoryro_**  
wow ryro, i'd watch your mouth or maybe i'll follow through on my plans of murdering you! jk!! i'm  **bdenxX**

i open up MSN and type in the username with my clunky keyboard. a profile appears with the same profile photo as livejournal. a boy with straight brown hair, short bangs swiped to the side. his full lips curl into a small grin as he looks into the camera with coffee coloured hues.

i add him as a friend and send him a quick message.

**itsryro:** _read the username to discover my identity :0_

it's not funny in the slightest but i'm not a very funny person.

**bdenxX:** _so the mysterious ryro, mhm? im guessing your name is ryan?_

**itsryro:** _yup! and what about you oh great bden?_

**bdenxX:** _the name's urie._

**bdenxX:** _*.+brendon urie+.*_

\--  
• ** _brendon and ryan's profile photos:_**  
brendon

       ryan


	2. ✧chapter 2✧

✦ **brendon's pov** ✦

i don't know what i'm doing anymore. i feel like a machine just repeating the same routine everyday. wake up, get ready, go to school, go home. once in a while brent stops by and steals mom's beer but other than that the only socializing i do is at school. which i really dont mind.

now i'm not one of those popular dudes but i have a nice group of friends that i goof around with. i'm just your everyday teenager. life is life. i don't have a load of hobbies but i enjoy music. it's always spoke to me in weird ways. and i mean weird. once my mom was so freaked out she forced me to see a therapist.

thing is, i have these dreams. but, they're more vivid than dreams. you always remember them and no matter how bizarre the subject matter is, the deeper meaning seems so simple to decode. so me being the idiotic person i am told my strictly religious parents. my mom -specifically, my dad was more chill- flipped the fuck out for no reason whatsoever and demanded me to seek some help. i did, but it didn't do anything. these dreams keep happening. my therapist even seems distressed at times from my mother's constant nagging that "my son is mentally ill and needs urgent help and you don't seem to be doing any such thing to help!" have we changed therapists?

nope.

but anyways. music, dreams, meaning. again these dreams i have are so difficult to explain. the jolt of awakeness you experience though very much unconscious, the way your eyes take in detail and your brain functions beyond normal capacity. you wouldn't get it, but very few do. so i tend to avoid this subject when talking about myself.

but may i say last night was extreme. i hadn't experienced one of these psychic dreams in about a month which was very peculiar, but i surely wasn't expecting to wake up in a cold sweat one october morning, cum staining my sheets.

"shit..." i mutter, hopping out of bed and ripping apart my bed. i stuff the contents into my laundry basket and return to my bare mattress. i bury my head into my hands, trembling. that was... interesting to say the least. i don't want to describe it at all. it doesn't seem fit, it doesn't seem right but it happened and i don't know what to do.

without realizing warm tears begin to tear past my eyelashes and trailing down my cheeks. i force back sobs. the worst thing about it is i can't do anything to stop it. it's set in stone.

"god" i stand from my bed and assume my robotic routine once more. these dreams are just like little glitches in my programming. you can't get rid of it easily but eventually they go away. they do always do. they'll be gone before i know it.

god i wish it could be sooner.

\--

school is nothing special. i'm not the brightest bulb in the bunch let's say, but i usually make up for that with my charisma which i'm widely known for. just give them a toothy grin and be the best mormon child you can be. sure that isn't me but we all lie to get what we want, right? don't lie to me.

i wish everything would just end already. everyone is always preaching "things will get better! embrace the now and use it to your advantage!". easily said than done dipshit. i want school to be over. i don't believe i'll ever use a day of my education. i just want to make music and be a difference or something. i don't want to be a missionaire, i don't want to be a preacher and i do  _not_  want to be a mormon. but, for now, here i am. life sucks point. blank.

i arrive to the all to familiar school, pushing open the doors and eventually finding my group of friends.

"brendon!" brent hollers, opening his arms wide and enveloping me into a hug. he sniffed my neck, in the weird way brent does, "shit, man you smell like flowers" i chuckle half-heartedly not bothering to explain. he doesn't even care anyways. just a blank statement drifting off into nothing.

"bren, do you have that worksheet we were doing in fourth? i couldn't be there" sarah pipes up. i toss her a sympathetic smile. she's been having loads of family issues. her mom is finally speaking up about her abusive relationship between her and sarah's dad and a load of bullshit has been going on, resulting in sarah being late constently and missing classes.

"yeah, i got an extra for you i think..." i open up my nap-sack to find my english homework and spot the extra sheet.

"oh thank go- thanks bren!" my lips twisted at the thought of her avoiding using the lord's name in vain. doesn't she know i really couldn't care less about that? i sigh and pass her the sheet. she sends me a smile, not catching the annoyance in my eyes. but, it wasn't her fault i guess. we grew up together, her always being aware of my strictly religious family and i suppose she doesn't know better anymore.

i eye our suspiciously small group today. just me, brent and sarah. i hum in thought "dallon's at band practice, melanie's off smoking with hayley, breezy is 's _ick'_ and Gerard is probably doing extra credit with Mr. Iero" brent explains, as if reading my mind. i run a hand aimlessly through my hair as everyone goes silent. that was until the bell echoed through the halls.

sarah and brent wave me off as we part our ways and enter our respective classrooms. unfourtunately my first period is spent without any company from my friends, which is good in ways. i can focus more on education. but i'd rather not. out of all classes i'd rather not spend calculus alone.

mr. wentz shuffles up to the board as everyone files in. once everyone is present he greets us and begins the lesson. my mind can't help but to drift. the way his voice levels out to a monotonous level, and how he seems so very uninterested in helping us at all. after going over the few things he does near the beginning, he orders us to take out our textbooks and finish pages 80-82 within the time we have.

i watch as he plops down into his chair and begins typing on his laptop.

\--

time whips by so fast that without realizing it's lunch hour. 48 minutes of bliss. i rush out of class as quickly as i can without seeming rude and make my way down to the cafeteria with the company of sarah and dallon who are both in my second period.

once we arrive the place is already packed, but we still spot our friends in the back corner, chatting away about surely nothing that important. we eventually flood into the food line and grab our meals before trudging over to the far back table.

"and so we make an appearance!" brent greets flailing his arms above his head. god he always has to be so extra.

"indeed we do" sarah retorts eyeing up the group, "and i could say the same to everyone else. busy, busy this morning" she takes a seat between hayley and brent. i immediately notice both hayley and melanie sporting sunglasses and stifle a laugh.  _smooth._

i take a seat beside gerard and dallon sits beside me. "so, how was mr. iero this morning, huh?" i nudge gerard lightly and his face flushes a bright red.

"o-oh he's good" he shuffles nervously in his seat. god he couldn't keep a secret if his life depended on it,

"only good? damn is he really worth the time then gee?" i pout questioning him further.

"oh bren stop teasing him you twat" hayley speaks up, shaking her head though a grin present on her lips. i sigh, sending hayley a playful glare,

"you're no fun" i spit, crossing my arms.

"mr. iero probably is, though" brent adds. everyone bursts into laughter, even hayley despite her being against it.

"guys!" gerard says between giggles, "that's not funny!" he eventually calms down along with the rest of us.

"yeah, we don't need to know  _every_ little tit-bit of his affair" melanie adds smirking. gerard sighs, finally figuring that he's getting no where. but, he doesn't elaborate on anything as breezy steps up to the table.

she looks like a mess. her hair is sticking up in clumps, her face pale and absent of makeup, showing off her acne. bags are heavy under her eyes and her clothes are nothing better. she collaspes onto dallon's lap and presses her face into his shoulder.

"breeze, what the hell happened last night?" dallon asks, running his hand through her tangled locks.

"yeah you look fucked. up." brent comments raising his brows as he takes in her appearance once again.

breezy shook her head, her voice muffled by dallon's shoulder and raspy from lack of use, but yet she still manages to speak, "there was a party down the street i thought i'd check out. bad idea"

"you should stay home, then. you said that you were anyways" brent must've been the person breezy notified about everything. good idea, i mean brent is like a messenger of the group. he always seems to know what's going on.

breezy groaned, "hell no, i'm stronger than that. i can last half a day" she rubbed her forehead drowsily. maybe she couldn't last. maybe that was bad thinking on her part.

melanie shrugged, "whatever miss.  _i'd rather come to school with a hangover than stay at home_ " she saltued towards Breezy with a sour expression. tough love, of course. that's melanie.

breezy rolled her eyes, "ok then captain  _wearing sunglasses inside because i'm totally not high_ " she salutes back and hayley giggles,

"where's the damn lie breze!" she clutched her stomach as she burst out into laughter again. soon the whole table errupts with laughter. hayley has a contagious laugh. and it's a wonderful laugh too, unlike most of us who snort and blow air through our nose and make that annoying "tiss-tiss" sound. no, her laugh is perfect. it's contagious.

after gerard consistently telling us to calm our tits we all stop and sit in a comfortable sort of silence, finishing the remainder of our food.

\--

the day seemed to pass quickly. i enjoy our daily bants throughout the day, but once i'm found alone once again, in my room, everything seems to fade away. i can no longer remember what we were talking about, why we laughed, why we were concerned, why we weren't paying attention in third or fourth period or anything. it was all gone. here i am again, alone with my thoughts.

my eyes cast towards my bare mattress again. the more vivid memories of today flow back. this morning. that damn fucking dream.

" ** _fuck!!_** " i grab the closest object, unfortunately being my lamp, and fling it across the room. it creates a loud thud on the opposite wall and crashes onto the floor in seperate pieces. why is this happening, why does this have to happen? i can't even decide if this is good or not. is it good? it might be. leading up to it might be fantastic but it's going to end up in flames. nothing is ever going to be good. nothing will ever turn out right.

"brendon boyd urie!" i groan at the familiar tone of my mother. she bursts open the door and frowns at me, "watch your language young man! and what in the world was that noise?!" she snaps.

i take a deep breath, trying my best to calm my intense heart-rate and the urge to beat the living shit out of my mom.

"nothing, mom. i just threw my lamp" mother furrowed her brows, jutting her hip out,

"now, young man what good will do of that? maybe you have to see mr. joseph again!" i groan, balling my fists,

"no, mom! i'm perfectly fine, i promise" the woman scowls,

"i'm scheduling an appoitment, brendon. try not to break anything else" i nod and wait until she leaves to slam my door. i'm tired of listening to my mom's empty threats. she means well, she always has. she just... doesn't get me anymore.

i force down the frog building in my throat. no use moping about it. i take a shaky breath before approaching my computer.

i don't know how i got there. i just clicked and clicked and clicked until i found him. and i'm glad i did find him. his words are so... brilliant. inspiring. creative. amazing. i can't think of words, i can't describe my morning cereal let alone the work of an artist. i couldn't stop myself from leaving a comment. and things sparked from there on.


	3. ✧chapter 3✧

✦ **ryan's pov** ✦

i wasn't in the mood to go to school. i didn't want to face the inveitable hurt that was keltie and jon. and the fact that everyone probably knew. i really needed to be alone, but alas here i am, george ryan ross the third, sitting in the front seat of the bus.

i could feel my chest clench up and my stomach double over as i stood awkwardly a few steps away from keltie and jon, waiting for the all too familiar bus. the yellow paint peeling off the body, dents littering the sides and each of the eight windows cracked. the rickety old vechicle halts in front of us three. keltie and jon immediately rush to the back, sitting together. they're probably glad they can finally show pda. they can hold hands and kiss and hug and it's all normal and nobody would care because they aren't cheating anymore. because i don't matter anymore because it's all over.

is it bad that i feel i could throw up at the sight. i don't know why i'm so bothered by this, i really shouldn't i really shouldn't i  _really shouldn't_.

but i am.

who's going to hold my hand now? whos' going to kiss me and hug me and when will people not stand and stare because  _that's not right_.

i shrug this off. it doesn't matter anymore. i can stand to be alone for at least a day. why am i so fucking clingy? i grit my teeth together and shove my headphones into my ears before i can overthink anything else. this isn't important.

\--

i don't throw my homework into the ditch and i don't run to the dirt road. today i have a reason to be home. i have something to do and someone to talk to. i have a reason to be happy. no need to dwell on today. no need to dwell on how everyone stared. how everyone whispered. how everyone snickered. it's okay. i'm okay.

i maneuver up the hill and slip into my room from the window. accordingly a ding sounds from my computer. a smile grows on my face as i leap into my chair, turning on my monitor and clicking through to find a new message from msn. more specifically from  **bdenxX**.

 **bdenxX:** ryrrroooooooo are u home yet

 **bdenxX:** i. want. that. song.

 **bdenxX:** plz?

i can't help but giggle at his whining.

 **itsryro:** give me a second! it takes more than 2 minutes to record a song god

 **bdenxX:** wow that's mean ry :( but i still want the song. now.

i shake my head before realizing he can't see me. i wish he could... i wish i could see him. you know, living, moving and breathing. am i a total weirdo or what? we literally just met yesterday.

 **itsryro:** you can't rush perfection b

 **bdenxX:** get working on that song!!

i smile as i exit the messenger app and shuffle across my room to find my acoustic and tambourine.

a few moments later my webcam is switched on, lyrics and chords laid out in front of me. i swish my fringe to the side one last time and smile up at the camera,

"this is called 'security'." i take a deep breath before strumming the first few chords, tapping the tambourine with my foot and eventually easing into the lyrics.

_"i want security, yeah_  
_without it, i'm at a great loss_  
_i am now_

_security, yeah_  
_and i want it at any cost_  
_i do_

_don't want no money_  
_no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no_  
_don't want no pay_  
_and it's a pity i can't have these_  
_these things, baby, alright_

_security, yeah_  
_that's all i want from you_  
_that's right_

_security, yeah_  
_a little love that'll be true_  
_right now_

_your sweet lips_  
_you know, they tell me you're the one_  
_darling, how can i forget you now?_  
_well, how can i forget?_  
_all right_

_i want security, yeah_  
_well i'll tell you once again_  
_yes, i will now_

_security, yeah_  
_and i want it to begin_  
_that's right_

_well, i don't want no money_  
_no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no_  
_i don't want no pay_  
_and it's a pity i can't have these_  
_these things, baby, all right_

_just give me your heart, yeah_  
_oh, I want your love now_  
_just say you'll be mine, yeah_  
_oh, come on now baby_  
_say you'll be mine now"_

soon enough the music is halted and im forced to make eye contact with the crappy webcam once again. "there you go, bren" i smile and reach forward to shut off the camera.

a few swift clicks later and the video has been uploaded with a short tagline of:

 **weresoryro:** a little song for a friend.  _[video attached]_

i lean back into my desk chair and sigh, peering up towards the white ceiling. my fingers brush the side of my guitar.

_ping_

**bdenxX:** holy shit

_ping_

**bdenxX:** u uploaded it im actually screaming

i smirk to myself and hunch over my keyboard.

 **itsryro:** is it ok?

 **bdenxX:** i haven't listened to it yet ._.

 **itsryro:** o?

fucking typical. brendon seems like that type of person. or, rather i'm judging him too quickly. either way his next response takes longer to send.

 **bdenxX:** ok, just watched it and w0wza

 **bdenxX:** can u make this a cd and send it 2 me, plz and thnx

I muster a hollow laugh and type before my brain manages to process the word.

 **itsryro:** sure

 **bdenxX:** wait wot

yeah, i'm asking myself the same thing bren. my back straightens and I send my monitor a bewildered glare. what the fuck did i just do? god i'm such an idiot. i gulp and inch my fingers forward and against the clunky keyboard.

 **itsryro:** umm yeah. i could record a few more songs or smthng and put it on a blank cd

 **itsryro:** i mean if that's ok w/ you.

 **bdenxX:** yeah totally dude! oh fuck thats rad!!

 **itsryro:** heh i'm here to please

 **bdenxX:** now in 10 years when ur all famous n shit i can brag that i was the first to have ur music

 **itsryro:** hah, sure. i give you permission of bragging rights if i ever am famous

 **bdenxX:** you talk like theres a chance of u  _not_ being famous. dude look at this. talent if ive ever seen it

 **itsryro:** youre not my therapist bren now fuck off i have music to record for you

**bdenxX:** damn i cant believe fame has changed you sm already

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i remember genuinely hating this chapter so sorry if it's totally ass.


	4. ✧chapter 4✧

✦ **brendon's pov** ✦

_i'm drowning. suffocating, paralyzed, terrified. i'm alone, nobody cares anymore. it's all a façade, it was never real. face the facts brendon._

_you will never save him._

"ryan" i croak, leaping from my duvet. i pant for a moment and clutch my racing heart as i sit on my bed. i take one last shaky breath before walking to my computer. my fingers fly over the keys and eventually i manage a short message.

 **bdenxX:** hey u up?

i chew my fingernails restlessly, my eyes boring into the screen until i receive a message in return.

 **itsryro:**  ya wats up

 **bdenxX:** i had a rly fcked up dream abt you

 **itsryro:** do tell

 **itsryro:** unless its like rly weird... like ya know

 **bdenxX:** dude. ew.

 **bdenxX:** no but basically u sent me that cd & i played it but it was just a recordin of u n this guy fighting

 **bdenxX:** it weirded me out xD

 **itsryro:** haha thats weird..

 **bdenxX:** ya i just thought itd be funny to tell u

 **bdenxX:** sooo have u been dreaming of me?????

 **itsryro:** u wish loser

 **bdenxX:** omg?? i'm so hurt???

 **itsryro:** lol xd

 **bdenxX:** x3

 **itsryro:** speaking of weird i actually have a question 4 u

 **bdenxX:**?

 **itsryro:** do u have skype bc i think itd b cool to video chat

 **bdenxX:** omg thatd b rad. and i do have skype i'm  _ratchetfivehead_

 **itsryro:** what kind of user is that xd

 **bdenxX:** says the unimaginative 'itsryro'

 **itsryro:** shut up. i'm xryryryx

 **bdenxX:** creative

 **itsryro:** fivehead

 **bdenxX:** and proud!

 **itsryro:** ur gonna b the death of me

 **bdenxX:** noo don't die my love :(

oops. my finger slipped. what can i say, teasing people is my specialty.

 **itsryro:** fuck off

i leaned back into my office chair and grinned at the screen. accordingly i opened the skype application and entered ryan's user. i sent a request and soon said request was approved.

 **RATCHETFIVEHEAD** \- sup loser

 **XRYRYRYX** \- hola dork

 **XRYRYRYX** \- can u video rn?

 **RATCHETFIVEHEAD** \- nah my mum will hear and kill me what abt tmrw?

 **XRYRYRYX** \- sure thing gn bren

 **RATCHETFIVEHEAD** \- gn

let's be real, i wasn't going to get any sleep after that dream. no, nightmare. i'm not saying what i told ryan was a lie, but i just hid some of the more daunting facts of the "dream".

but, even still i was calmer than i was when i woke up from the nightmare. ryan has that affect on me. even though we've only known each other briefly i can tell he's peaceful. i can't wait to video him tomorrow. maybe he'll sing to me if i pester him enough.

i click onto ryan's livejournal and watch the song he uploaded, for me. i shut my eyes and a smile graces my lips. i mouth the words as by now i've memorized them. how lucky was i to find this boy when i did.

my thoughts are interrupted as sirens sound outside my window, blaring even louder than my headphones. i sigh and remove them, peering off into the distant city.

where are you ryan ross?

\--

i quickly bury myself under my covers as i hear a knock at my door. a few moments later said door creaked open to reveal my mother,

"brendon.." she cooed, stepping inside, "time for school" she walked forward and peeled off my blanket.

"humph, yeah" i mumbled, turning over onto my stomach,

"i'm making pancakes this morning. i'll call you when they're done"

"'course mum," i replied, shoving my face into my pillow and praying she didn't notice my computer was still on. i noticed her hesitate before saying,

"i love you, bren" she wavered her hand above my back before rubbing it gently,

"i know, mom," was all i could say. she tried, she really did. she tried to make this poor excuse of a family work. she put in effort when me and dad didn't. she's too stubborn to face the facts. but, i get it. i really do.

she shuts the door behind her and trudges downstairs to make her pancakes. i roll onto my back and stare at my blank ceiling. what has become of me?

i make my way to my closet and pick out a tight red t-shirt and black skinny jeans. i slip into the bathroom to shower and take care of my hair and teeth before my mom eventually calls me down to eat.

we munch on the pancakes in the eerily large dining room, in eerily uncomfortable silence. considering i've known her for my entire 16 years of living, we truly aren't very acquainted, which i suppose results in these awkward silences between us. i haven't even informed her of me being bisexual, but i had a feeling she wouldn't take it well. i didn't want to break her heart more than it already was.

\--

school passed in a blur, and for once i could truthfully say that these boring events weren't the highlight of my day. i had ryan to look forward to, someone to distract me from the loneliness of home.

i entered our massive apartment building and using the elevator arrived at the fourth floor before 5. i rushed inside and quickly noted mom was still at work. i grinned and rushed into my room, clicking onto skype. i was about to type out a message until i glanced at my mirror. i was, to word it simply, a mess.

i mean, what do you expect? send a kid to hell for six hours and you want them to come out looking like an angel? i purse my lips and head into the bathroom to sort out my greasy mess of hair. i set my fringe in place and even teased it a little. i added a small ring of eyeliner around my eyes and smiled at my reflection. not too shabby. i flattened out the wrinkles on my shirt and declared this was the best i was going to get.

so i set off back into my room and sent a ryan a message. ok, a few messages.

 **RATCHETFIVEHEAD** \- u home yet i wanna skypeeeeeeee

 **RATCHETFIVEHEAD** \- ry i'm lonely i wanna see u

 **RATCHETFIVEHEAD** \- ryyrrooooo

i leaned back into my chair and bit my lip. what if he really didn't want to video chat? but then why would he have asked in the first place? maybe he's just nervous, he seems like a jittery dude. or maybe he's having second thoughts, worrying. or he could be getting ready, wherever he is in the world.

or maybe he's just not home yet.

_'ping'_

**XRYRYRYX** \- ya im here you creep

 **XRYRYRYX** \- u wanna 'see me' huh?

 **RATCHETFIVEHEAD** \- screw off i'm calling u now

_ring, ring, ring_

i rubbed at the nape of my neck as the pixels gathered together to form a face. a familiar one at that. ryan ross was staring at me through his screen, miles away. he could be doing so many other things and yet, here he his.

"the one and only" i greet, mustering a low whistle. the boy on the other end laughs. his almond eyes crinkle at the corners and his lips curve into a smile i hope to get to know better.

i take in everything. i can barely see his face on his profile picture, so i can't help but feel special. his coffee eyes, button nose and rosy lips. his rounded cheeks and fringe. and i notice we're both sporting the iconic pete wentz guy liner look.

"hiya brendon" he waves at me through the screen. he's wearing a muse tee and i smile even wider,

"muse, huh? that's rad" one side of ryan's mouth curves upwards,

"yeah, i love their stuff," he shrugs, looking down. i laugh softly,

"what other bands are you into?"

"oh, well, make sure you're comfy" i chuckle, "it's mostly old stuff, i guess. i mean, 60's, 70's, 80's, the golden days. it'd take ages to list all my faves but it's mostly the beatles, david bowie, queen that kinda stuff. but, what about you?" i smile at him. he's passionate about music, that i can tell.

"well, i love that kind of stuff too, but i'm more into punk y'know. like smashing pumpkins, nirvana, radiohead,the arctic monkeys.." i shrug and avert my eyes, "but, now to more important matters" i clasp my hands on the desk so ryan can see and smirk towards him. i notice him shift in his seat nervously, but nonetheless he cracks a smile,

"sing something for me"


	5. ✧chapter 5✧

✦ **ryan's pov** ✦

"no" and it was as simple as that. no, i'm not going to sing for brendon.

"oh, c'mon ryan! you were so quick to suggest sending me a whole cd of you singing but can't sing to me on skype?" i avert my eyes as a blush creeps onto my face. i forgot about that. i can only hope he doesn't notice this.

but, anyways, me not singing to brendon. it already feels like he's been begging me to sing to him for hours, but in reality it's probably been 10 minutes. still, he really doesn't get that i'm not singing for him.

"ryan pleeease! i'll give you all my muse vinyls!" my head perks up at this,

"all of them?" i notice brendon gulp and grin, "how about this, i really want absolution, yeah? you send me that and we got a done deal"

he sighs and adjusts his fringe, "ok, fine. if that's what i have to pay for you to sing to me. but, this means that you get to sing to me whenever from now on, hm?"

"you fight a hard bargain, bren" i giggle and he joins in on this. that's a sound i can get used to. it's a nice giggle, better than mine at least.

"is it a deal?" he raises one of his brows, the one with the slit in it to be precise. i wanted to ask him about it, but i decided against it. i sigh and roll my eyes,

"whatever, you better send that vinyl soon," brendon nods and smiles wildly. he must be crazy to actually send me stuff in return for me singing to him. i can't deny i'm flattered though.

"yeah, i can get boxes sometime soon, but i'll need your address" he winks and i groan,

"oh my  _god_ you can be creepy sometimes" he chuckles and i can't help but beam. he has that kind of contagious laugh.

"okay, i want you to sing one of your originals, maybe a recent one..?" brendon continues, leaning forward and resting his chin in his hand. i shrug and get out of my chair to retrieve my lyric book.

"well, i actually wrote some new lyrics last night, but i haven't had the chance to add chords" i remark, returning to my chair.

"really? oh my god, can i help? i like to say i'm good with music" he smiles up into the webcam with those full lips of his. i chuckle,

"yeah, sure. i'm thinking of calling it  _'lying is the most fun'_ " brendon nods and gets out of his office chair. his walks to the other side of the room and out of view. before he left i caught an unwanted glimpse of his boxers and roll my eyes,

"pull your pants up loser!" i shout at him. he returns back onto the screen and flips me off with his free hand. he sits back down and sets his guitar on his lap.

"can you send me the lyrics?" he asks. i nod and do just that. i watch as he reads through my work, mouthing the lyrics. just then i felt like a little kid again, showing off my work to my parents. waiting for them to smile and tell me how did i good. just wishing and hoping they really liked it.

not saying that brendon was like, my dad or anything. that's weird.

"hm, that's nice. a little risqué, hm?" he wiggles his brows and i scoff, "so it's called lying is the most fun?" i nod,

"yeah, but it's still a work in progress title, i guess" brendon nods and i watch as he clicks through his computer and eventually settles back into his chair,

"what if we made it longer, y'know?" he suggests. i smile,

"you have a problem, bren" he shakes his head and crosses his arms,

"what about.... lying is the most fun a boy can have without taking off his clothes?" i raise my eyebrows,

"a boy?" brendon shrugs, strumming his guitar aimlessly,

"why not? my gaydar is off the charts right now around you" i practically choke on air,

"what the fuck?" i hiss, partly laughing, but yet trying to be serious, "i'm not gay brendon what the fuck"

"what the fuck, ryan? i'm trying to be progressive, what the fuck?" i roll my eyes as brendon starts laughing,

"oh god, sorry, you're fun to tease" he wipes at his eyes and tries to hide his smile, unsuccessfully,

"screw you, brendon urie. lying is the most fun a  _girl_ can have without taking her clothes off" i conclude, writing this in my journal.

"whatever. girl, boy, doesn't matter to me," he winks and bites his lip. i can't help but laugh at his attempt at being sexy.

"you're a weirdo, bren." i shake my head and eventually finish writing out the paragraph long title, "okay, now the chords. i was kinda thinking it would start off with, like, quiet music then get louder... i could whisper or something"

brendon nods, "yeah that sounds cool. maybe just a simple beat at the start then," he suggests and i hum in acknowledgment.

"ok you could like... tap your desk," i say and clear my throat, placing my lyric book next to my screen,

"or just kick it" brendon smiles, banging his foot into (supposedly) his desk. i flinch and hiss,

" _brendon_ " and like magic, i hear a voice from brendon's end.

" ** _brendon boyd urie,_** what is going on up there!" the voice is inherently female and i snigger as brendon goes pale,

"shit i didn't realize she was home," he admits and grabs a blanket to cover his monitor,

"good luck" i say and attempt to hide my growing grin.

"brendon, what's going on? first your lamp yesterday, what now?" the girl approaches his door and i hear brendon exhale through his nose,

"mom, i'm good, just fooling around, you know how it is," his mom sighs and i can sense the tension between them, even through a screen. i try my best to see through the blanket, but fail.

"we're going back to see dr. joseph this saturday, don't think you're getting out of it this time young man" brendon sighs,

" _yes mom_ " he says. there's a pause and them i hear the door shut and the blanket is thrown back into brendon's room,

"Gosh, sorry about her, she can be a bitch," he remarks. but, i can tell the joking atmosphere we developed has been diminished. i have a few questions anyways.

maybe it wouldn't be good to ask, to push, but i'm curious. and, to be frank, i'm done being curious. i'm done not asking questions and never getting an answer and laying awake at night wondering everything i could've done differently. so, i ask him,

"who's dr. joseph?" i notice brendon tense, but will myself not to regret asking. i want to know this, i have every right to know.

but, i regret it anyways. i don't want to make brendon tense, i want him to joke around again and be carefree and kick his desk and be an idiot because that's the brendon i enjoy being around. i don't want him to feel negative because of me. i've done that to too many people i care about, but not brendon. never brendon.

i make a silent vow just then to never hurt him again in any way. i'm going to make sure he's always happy.

"forget it, i don't want to know" i say and look down into my lap,

"no, no ryan, it's fine.." he sighs and averts his gaze. that wall must be very fascinating.

"he's my therapist. my mom makes me go see him because i have weird dreams that... predict things," he explains and takes a shaky breath, "that's kinda why i wanted to tell you about that dream i had about you.. incase it does happen and you do have that argument, because... it's really bad, ry"

my breathing hitches. jon... me and jon having that goddamn argument last night. i look up and meet brendon's eyes. his chocolate brown eyes. he knows. he knows how much of a fool i was and how silly i am when dealing with arguments.

i feel like all my walls have been pushed down and i'm left naked.

"oh... okay" i reply. it's best he doesn't know he's dreaming of the past, but he's not stupid. by the look on his face i can tell he already knows.

"i'm sorry..." he says, just barely audible.

"brendon, you didn't do anything. it's fine," there's a moment of silence. brendon's looking down at his guitar and i'm staring at him, waiting for him to look up. he clears his throat,

"how about we try going through that song?" i nod and attempt a smile,

"yeah, if you're offering a muse vinyl i guess i should deliver on my part too," brendon flashes a smile. i could hug him right there. i wish i could. he looks like he needs a hug. i cough and gulp down the remainder of my caprisun next to my computer. i tap my foot against the ground and whisper a  _1, 2, 3, 4,_ before beginning.

"is it still me who makes you sweat, am i who you think about in bed?"


	6. ✧chapter 6✧

✦ **brendon's pov** ✦

i was excited for the bell to finally ring, because i found myself missing ryan during school. in fact, the more i thought about it, the more i realized ryan was my main source of drive. i got up in the morning because i knew after school i could talk to him. i bliss through school, turning a blind eye to everyone's bullshit because ryan is a living, breathing human being that i have the pleasure of talking to.

maybe he was ruining my life, only a tad. i didn't contribute as much to conversations with my group of friends and found myself staring into space. school work didn't seem as important, which is probably bad because i never cared in the first place.

in fact, i'm doing it again. the thing where i sit at my desk and tap the end of my pencil onto my work. the thing where i rest my cheek in my hand and stare up at the clock, watching time slip past. the thing where i constantly think of ryan ross and if he's doing okay right now.

i hardly heard the bell ring, however once students began filing out of the classroom in a not-so-orderly fashion, i find myself grinning and blend into the crowd.

well, until i hear my name called. i tense up and turn to face mr. toro. i force a smile as he walks towards me. everyone has cleared out and we're left with uncomfortable silence.

"now, brendon. i really didn't want to be the one to have this talk with you, but unfortunately i do," he sighs and runs a hand through his fro, "as you may know you're failing the majority of your classes, including mine," i gulp and try my best to remain eye-contact. harder than you'd think.

"anyways, the staff collectively has decided to put you into a tutoring program after school. you need to set up the times with mr. black immediately," he points to the door.

i'm, for the possible first time in my life, rendered speechless. i'm rooted to the ground, jaw hanging open, staring at mr. toro.

"b-but mr-"

"no buts about it, brendon. off you go," his statement contains some urgency, so i manage to trudge out of his room. i lean against the wall once the door closes.

after school tutoring? no way in hell am i, brendon boyd urie, going to fucking  _after school tutoring_! i'm not fucking retarded! i furrow my brows and with anger clouding my mind, sprint out of the school.

once outside i'm out of breath, but i'm still abundant in energy and rage. the sun beats down on my back and the wind rustles past my ears. i run in sync with the busy traffic and dart around sky-scrapers until i'm met with my family's apartment.

i thank whatever god there is out there that it's the weekend and using the elevator eventually reach my floor. it's only then that i notice how out of breath i really am. i stumble in my room and close the door with a resounding bang, louder than i intended. i sink to the floor and attempt to steady my breathing.

fucking hell i'm out of shape.

with my last remaining strength i climb into my desk chair and turn on my computer. i'm still panting heavily as i open msn and type out a message to ryan.

 **bdenxX:** _ry help im dying_

 **bdenxX:** _ryroooo im so tired i hate running help_

 **bdenxX:** _ryan fucking ross where are youu!!_

 **itsryro:** _wtf bren r u ok?_

 **bdenxX:** _no! i'm not ok!_

 **itsryro:** _*cough* i promise *cough*_

 **bdenxX:** _omg now is not time for shitty mcr references_

 **itsryro:** _i thought it was pretty good:(_

 **bdenxX:** _imma skype u i wanna tell u what happened_

 **itsryro:** _k_

i open up skype and pop open ryan's contact. i wipe the sweat from my forehead and rearrange my fringe to the best of my ability before calling.

"heya," ryan greets. i manage a smile as the pixels form together the boy,

"hey you insensitive twat," ryan makes an amused face and cocks a brow,

"so, what's up? you don't look too bad for someone who's apparently 'dying'" he forms air-quotations around the word dying and i roll my eyes,

"i'm going to take that as a compliment, and for your infortmation i just fucking ran home all the way from school which is four blocks away, so stop bullying me" i lean back and cross my arms, as if to dare him to challenge me. however, to my dismay he begins a slow clap,

"wow, bren. good job. you ran four blocks. what an achievement," he says monotonously. i scoff and point a finger at him,

"you don't even know why i ran, get a load of this," i reply and clear my throat, "i was supposed to go set up times for this after school tutoring program, because according to my school i'm fucking stupid. but, anyways, i was like, fuck that shit and ran home," i take a deep breath and smile. ryan raises his eyebrows and nods.

"so, now you're talking to me then, i guess" he comments and i nod. ryan smirks and puts his hand over his heart dramatically, "oh brenny, how sweet of you"

i feel my face flush at the nickname and shake my head, "i didn't run home for you, idiot. i didn't want to be chased down by mr. black. you don't want to mess with him" ryan's smirk grows and i internally scream. for no reason, i just screamed inside because i felt like it. not because that smirk is totally fucking adorable or anything,

"oh really? mr. black must be fast," he mocks and i flip him off, "oh, screw you too, brendon" i shake my head in defeat.

"have you recorded lying?" i move the conversation along, desperate for us not to fall into an awkward silence. ryan laughs a laugh of disbelief and a look of amusement flashes across his features, until he realizes i'm completely serious.

"bren?! you've got to be kidding me?" he manages out through laughter. i roll my eyes, biting the inside of my cheek. i've never felt so embarassed in my life, and i'm  _never_ fucking embarssed. being embarassed if for pussies.

well.

"what, then? you think i just stay home all day, write lyrics and record music? i have to go to school like any other teenager too, y'know," he looks above the webcam and sniggers.

"i hate you," i mutter, crossing my arms bitterly. ryan looks at me with his soft eyes,

"sure thing," he flashes a toothy grin, which i can't help but return, "however.." ryan trails off, looking like he suddenly remembered something. he stood from his chair and sauntered across the room to his book-bag. he pulled out one of his notebooks (to be exact, his infamous lyric book) and returned to his seat, "i'm pretty sure we're done with the chords for the song.. i finished off the rest in maths, just haven't had the time to fine-tune it," he rustled with the papers until he found the song.

"which i am helping you with!" I finish, clapping my hands together, "that'd be two songs done for the cd you're sending me," i almost squeal, but think better of it. ryan smiled to himself as he set up the notebook next to his monitor.

"yes, two songs done, however many i'm doing left to go. and, in return, a muse vinyl," he stood up again and stepped off to the side,

"a great deal, yeah?" i commented. i hear ryan laugh a little,

"i can think of better," i squint my eyes at him as he walks into view, his acoustic in hand, "oh c'mon, stop being so salty," i gasped in horror,

"me? salty?" i huff through my nose, "another reason why you are an insensitive twat," i added. ryan raised his eyebrows,

"how am i being insensitive? you're being salty, bren. deal with it," i gasp once again, for dramatic effect, and cover my mouth,

"how  _dare_! and, you're being insensitive because i don't like being called salty, so fuck you,"

"why are you so irritatble tonight? i miss it when you were being funny last night and not pretending to be a total dickhead,"

i'm not even going to lie. that kinda hurt. i narrow my eyes at ryan and sigh, leaning back into my chair.

"well, are we going to fine-tune this song or what?" ryan hesitated a moment, before nodding.

\--

"i'm sorry," my head perked up at this. ryan had just finished yet another round of the song and i could tell he was getting sick of playing it. his voice was getting raspy, but yet he still managed to say these two words as the song came to a close.

"for what?" i ask, resting my chin in my hand, staring intently at the pixels gathered together on my screen. i bet ryan would look so much better in real life than in 720p.

"for telling you your jokes were shit earlier. i feel guilty," that's another one of the reasons i enjoy ryan's company. he doesn't beat around the bush. he tells you how it is. he feels guilty for some stupid shit he did, he'll tell you. i wish i could do that.

a smile ghosts across my lips, "yeah, that's okay. i think i was getting kinda annoying," i shrugged and averted my eyes. i've never been good with apologies. it never seemed adequete enough. saying sorry, that is. petty words can't take back the things you did, the way you treated people. and forgiveness isn't something given immediately. but yet, we accept meaningless apologies, because it'd be rude to do otherwise, wouldn't it? stupid, stupid, stupid.

but, i did forgive ryan. i forgave ryan quicker than i've ever forgave anyone before. because, sure it hurt, but it's ryan. he's one of the most genuine people i've ever been presented with, and probably ever will. but, that's beside the point.

"i think we're done with that song now, though... took long enough," i nod along with ryan's words, staring out my window to the night sky. clouds seclude the moon from view, and the bustling on the streets below bring nothing but a distraction from what's important. which, at the moment is ryan.

i peer back at the screen and wonder what ryan sees out of his window. i wonder how he'd describe his view. he's brilliant when it comes to writing. absolutely brilliant.

"what's at your window?" ryan looks taken a back for a moment,

"pardon?"

"what's at your window?" i repeat, hugging my legs to my chest. ryan turns his head and looks lost for a split moment. eyes searching.

"i wish you were"

 


	7. ✧chapter 7✧

✦ **ryan's pov** ✦

i wake with a startle. whether it was from my nightmare, or the fact brendon's mom was yelling, i didn't know. i mumble something incoherent, brushing back my greasy ass hair and finally tune into what's happening.

"-been wondering why our internet bill was so pricey! brendon, who even is this?" it looks like brendon himself had only just woke up and i find myself glad my dad never checks up on me. he'd be even more pissed.

"mom, this is ryan... we met in music class, he's a lyricist n' stuff.." brendon rambles, sheilding his face from his mom with his hand and rolling his eyes. i smile groggily. his mom sighs out of her nose,

"well, even still, that's no reason to be video chatting all night! say good-bye. we're leaving for dr. joseph's in an hour," brendon goes pale and mutters a small  _yeah_  as she leaves. i'm curious, but i won't push him. if anyone understands wanting to hide things from others, it's me.

"sorry, ry... she can be really bitchy," he comments, crossing his arms on his desk and sighing. i wave my hand in a vague gesture,

"it's whatever, man. see you, i guess?" i notice brendon bite his lips. god, his lips are so big. and rosy, at that. 

"hope so," his shoulders tense up and all in a matter of moments he seems to close in on himself. the roar of ambulence echoes from his side.

"bye," i say softly, managing a smile. brendon nods and the call ends. 

i stare at my screen as silence invades my room. i'm alone, once again. sunlight pours through my window, the whistles of morning birds infiltraiting my thoughts. there's no soft breathing. no brendon through my screen anymore. he's off to dr. joesph's, wherever that is. 

a wave of fear spreads through my chest. my only friend lives in goddamn new york, and can't video call all the time. i fiddle with the seam of my shirt. it's me and brendon versus the world, but what if brendon has to go be human for a little while? me versus the world sounds empty.

god, what's happened to me? i never used to rely on human contact so much. brendon's changed me. for good, or for bad, who knows? but, he's changed me, and there's no reversing that.

i make my way over to my window and slide it open. the cool breeze slams against me and the rustling of the coloured leaves increasing a few decibels. my eyes scan the familiar landscape. our shitty excuse of a backyard, bordered by the white picket fence. our not so lovely back-door neighbours home and the giant oak a few meters from my window. 

why the fuck did i have to be born in goddamn tennesse. 

i crouch to my knees and rest my arms on the sill. why couldn't i be in new york, the same school as brendon. life would be so much easier. maybe there'd be less dicks like jon and less bitches like keltie. 

"ryan, you up boy?" i cringe at the voice, however close my window softly and dive into my bed. i hear my dad grunt, his feet reverbrating off the stairs. at least he didn't just open the door without permission. i hate talking to him. more likely than not it ends in an argument, over something petty nine times out of ten.

it seems like me and brendon have opposite problems. his parents are too pushy and controlling, while my dad is a neglectful piece of shit that'd rather insult me than cook dinner.

i can't blame him though, i'd do the same. i can be a real jackass.

i shake my head. this always happens. i venture too deep into my thoughts and get lost. my mind is too dark to just wander into on your own. i stand back up when a  _ding_ sounds from my phone. my shitty blackberry was the only thing i could afford with my babysitting career, but i deal with it. a scowl forms on my lips as i notice who it's from. the scowl deepens as i realize this hasn't been his first attempt at contacting me.

jon:  _ **ryan i'm so sorry**_ \- tuesday 7:14pm

jon:  **please talk to me**  - tuesday 7:16pm

jon:  **i can explain ok? i'm a fucking coward you know this better than anyone**  - wednesday 5:03pm

jon:  **god i fucked up so bad ry please** \- wednesday 5:04pm

jon:  **i'm coming over don't get mad**  - wednesday 5:12pm

jon:  ** _ryan i feel so bad, i don't know why i can't own up to it_** \- friday 7:33pm

jon:  ** _i prefer you over keltie i'll break up with her. ryan i need you in my life_** \- saturday 8:25am

what a dickhead. what an actual dickhead. ryan i need you, ryan i miss you, ryan i'm sorry. might as well said his dick accidently fell into her vag the fucking douchebag.  _ryan i didn't mean to! it was an accident!_

actually, piss off.

blocked him on msn, forgot he has my phone number. i knew i forgot something. good thing i rarely check my phone.

me:  ** _fuck off_**

jon: _**ryan omg listen to me please i'm so sorry** _

me:  _ **yeah i listened to you when you came to my house**_

me:  _ **you put up a lame fight jon**_

jon:  _ **fuck i know ryan. can we just go back to how things used to be?**_

me:  _ **you really don't get it? no we can't**_

jon:  _ **ryan! i'm begging you please!**_

me: _**i'm blocking you now. get out of my life** _

for the first time in my life, i think i can safely say i hate jon walker's sorry excuse of guts. and, yes, jon, i do wish we could go back to how things used to be. but, in the end, you're the one who fucked up, not me. so, as i said get out of my life.

i don't think i've ever been so angry in my life. not even when i came to know why mom left, not when everyone laughed at me for being so guillible, not even finding out that jon did what he did the son of a bitch.

no, it's the fact the jon wants to take it back that makes me want to spill blood. he doesn't own it like a douche like him should. no, he's sorry. he wants me back. he wishes he didn't. maybe i should feel glad i have so much control over him. it's because keltie's my ex that he's so upset he did what he did. but he's just so guillible to think i could just dismiss this.

yeah, jon, let's be besties again. let's go find spencer and ride our bikes together again. let's play tag and play on the playground and be carefree again. because the world is such a happy place, isn't it?

jon walker needs to grow to fuck up.

i don't notice my hands shaking until my phone crashes to the ground. the screen cracks, but i'm indifferent. tears rip past my eyelids until i'm a sobbing mess on the floor. but, i could care less.

"ryan? is that you?" it's then that i really care. foot-steps approach and i'm left with my wits to decide what to do.

i gulp down the frog in my throat and open my window, maneuvering onto the sill and i have just enough time to shut it and jump down when my door opens. i attempt to steady my breathing and i hug the wall. i'm not a ninja, ok? i don't jump out of fucking windows to avoid my dad, unless it's a special occaision, such as now i suppose.

i wipe the liquid from my cheeks and wheeze in air through my mouth. my dad doesn't seem so interested in me being gone as he doesn't pursue any action of finding me, as i can tell, so i breath a sigh of relief.

i hate being alone so goddamn much.

i wrap my arms around my torso as i stare down the grass. fall is here and eventually winter, however the climate rarely drops bellow 32F. but, even still i wish i'd brought my leather jacket with me before jumping out of the goddamn window. i turn my head as i hear wheels screech on the road behind me. 

i drop my hands and peek around the corner, only to be met with those familiar hazel eyes. perhaps too familiar for my liking. i whip back around and pray to whatever god out there he continues along on, but alas.

"ryan..? is that you? what are you doing behind your house?" jon asks and i hear his bike clatter to the ground, his footsteps becoming louder as he veers the corner. 

he looks so... happy. like he can pretend nothing happened. not my warnings of staying out of life, not anything. i sneer at him. 

"i-i broke it off with keltie, just so you know" he admits, leaning against the wall beside me, not noticing my obvious discomfort. his eyes meet mine for a split second before he shys away. the bastard.

"um... i" he laughs softly, "i don't know what to tell you ryan. i'm sorry," he apologizes for what feels like the millionth time. well, it's my turn to apologize walker, because this time sorry isn't enough. nothing is enough. i scowl and cross my arms. sorry ryan, i'm really sorry, so so so so so so sorry ryan, please forgive me ryan, i'm a scumbag but forgive me ryan!

fuck  _off_!

jon flinches and glances at me with fear in his eyes, "i-i..." his eyes appear to well up and it's then that i notice i said that out loud. but, here he is, making it about himself again. poor ol' jon walker, fucked his best friend's girlfriend and isn't forgiven, what a tough life you must lead.

"ryan what else do i have to do, i-i'm so sorry, goddamnit" then he breaks down, sobbing into his hands. some part of me wants to console him, like i used to. past tense very must intended.

"stop making it about yourself, jackass. do you have any idea how  _I_ fucking feel!? or has that even occured to you? my best-fucking-friend fucking my girlfriend behind my fucking back? but, no, everything's about you, yeah? Oh poor jon goddamn walker. poor you,"

and boy, does that get him going.

he's wailing by now, like a goddamn fire engine. he peels himself from his hands, his eyes bloodshot, "for fuck's sake, walker. you're a mess. Go home and never come back,"

"r-ryan please don't do this to me" he meets my eyes shakily and something tugs at my heart. If I could reverse time I would. If I could forget everything, I would. But, I can't, so I'll learn to deal with it.

"bye, jon" i scowl at him one last time before walking around the other side of the house. where i'm going? well, fuck me if i know. away from jon is all i have in mind. and so, with my heart left strangling from my window sill, i round the corner.


	8. ✧chapter 8✧

✦ **brendon's pov** ✦

i don't know how to escape from this prison. i can't breathe. not without you, at least. 

my chest is contrictred, my vision blurred as i dry-heave over the toilet. i can't breathe. not without 

you.

"brendon"

bang, bang, bang. gun shots or knocking?

"brendon!"

"stop"

the door flies open and knocks me onto the floor. this, surprisingly, is what levels me out into reality. my mother's face appears in front of me and i feel her hands on my sides. i wince as she touchs the bruise from the door pushing me.

"brendon! what's going on!? why're you on the floor!?" i groan in reply, clutching my side. mom rolls me onto my back. my wet hair drips onto the hard tile and i still feel like i'm going to throw up. "brenny, stop fooling around. we're going to be late if you keep this up. now, come on," 

mom stands up and offers me her hand. i have half a wit to ignore her but, but i resist. she pulls me up and walks me out of the bathroom. my pale yellow towel is still wrapped around my waist, a few water rivlets navigating my chest.

you see, i thought i was going to have a normal shower for once. hah. funny one, bren. 

let me explain. 

you remember when i mentioned i have psychic dreams? well, they also come in daydreams. and for whatever fucked up reason, these psychic daydreams are triggered by water. i drink water, i see into the future. i go swimming, i see into the future. i have a  _fucking shower_ and guess what! i see into the mother fucking future!

long story short, i drink a lot of juice.

now, you may be wondering why the hell i wouldn't sit in the shower after experiencing this for the lame 16 years of my life. well, beats me. guess i forgot. i rarely have showers anyways. who needs that shit when you have axe?

"sorry, mom. i don't know what happened," i lie, walking towards my room. i notice dad walk in wearing his work clothes. he tosses me a confused look and i smile indifferently. 

"well, make sure it doesn't happen again. also, wear something nice for once would you? we're leaving in 10" i nod and enter my room, making sure to close the door behind me. i think i usually wear nice clothes, don't i? 

i bite my lip and stare at my computer screen. ryan usually wears nice clothes.. at least, from what i've seen. maybe he can help? i seat myself in my padded desk chair and bring up his skype. 

_ring, ring, ring._

ryan doesn't pick up. i run my hand through my damp hair. he's probably out doing something with his friends. his life doesn't revolve around me. that's okay. really, it's fine, i get it. 

but, soon things are going to change. soon his life is going to revolve around me and maybe that's not such a good thing. i wrap my arms around myself. and, perhaps my life already is so invested in him? maybe i've fallen in the same pit he inveitably will. 

oh, fuck.

i pull myself away from the computer and shuffle through my closet. eventually i find something resembling a button-up and tug it on, accompanied by some newer jeans. i sigh as i peer into the mirror. i fucking hate dressing up. i have no style. button-up and jeans, how creative.

i arrange my hair so it hangs over my eyes with more grace than usual. does it really matter that much, mom? what dr. joseph thinks of us? he already knows how fucked up i am. he sees past all the clothes and hair and everything. why can't we drop the facade already?

a knock sounds on my door and i rush over to open it. surprisingly, it's dad this time. he smiles at me, which puts me on edge. "c'mon, bud. time to go,"

"you mean you're coming too?" i question, raising my brows. he shrugs and averts his eyes.

"you know how mom is.." i exhale through my nose. yeah, he'd never take interest in anything related to me on his own will. sometimes it's like his brain is on a constant loop of food, work, food, sleep. 

I hum in reply and push my way past him. he doesn't react at all and instead follows me to the front door where mom waits. together we board the elevator and arrive to our red subaru. dad drives for once. nobody says anything.

\--

"mr and mrs. urie, it's been a while" dr. joseph stands from his desk to shake my parents hands. he smiles kindly at me, but i don't move forward to shake his hand. 

"brendon, don't be rude," mom mutters under her breath. i roll my eyes. she takes a deep breath, obviously annoyed. dr. joseph shakes his head,

"it's okay, mrs. urie. so, what's been going on lately? how is everyone?" i cross my arms as i lean back into the seat i've chosen. sometimes it's fun to play the unreasonable teen when it comes to therapy sessions. it's funny when mom tries to force me to do things, then eventually gives up. i feel it really defines her as a character.

"well, i've been perfectly fine, but i'm not too sure about brenny here," mom rests her hand on my shoulder and rubs it gently, "i keep hearing him smashing things around in his room, and just this morning he was on the floor after taking a shower. i'm really worried," i avoid eyecontact with everyone.

"hm, i see. well, what's been troubling you brendon? do you want to share?" i don't have to look up to know that he's writing this down. i know for a fact i can't tell him the truth. the fact that my psychic dreams have taken a ruthless turn. showing me my devastating future. the future in which, not only do i ruin myself, but also another fragile human.

i'm a monster.

but, will i tell him this? never. 

"okay, thank you for telling me this, mrs. urie. if you and your husband could now just wait outside, that'd be great," i look up to find dr. joseph flashing them both a brilliant smile. he has a nice smile. that's something.

mom nods and look at me reassuringly. i watch dad leave silently from the corner of my eye. bastard. mom follows him out. the room is flooded in an instrusive silence. 

i hate it, i hate it. hatehatehatehatehatehate hate it.

"remember, brendon. anything you say here will only be between you and me, yeah? nobody needs to know but us," he smiles kindly at me. you know what, no. he doesn't have a nice smile. i hate his smile to.

"fuck off." i murmur, averting my eyes. the only therapist i need is ryan. ryan and his poetic words. ryan and his stunning face. ryan and his thoughtful comments. ryan. that's who i need. not doctor  _fucking_ joseph.

dr. joseph hums to himself, laying his notepad on his lap. "nobody here is forcing you to say anything you don't want to. but, it'll help, i can promise you that." i muster a laugh.

"in that case, i don't think i'll be saying anything, thank you very much," dr. joseph nods and rests his chin in his palm. ryan does that a lot too. where he puts his dainty chin into his palm. except, his hair always falls into his face when he does that, and he usually says something to utterly out of context. dr. joesph doesn't do that, though. he just stares at me to the point where i shift in my seat.

"do you want to tell me about one of your psychic dreams, maybe?"

"no" the answer comes too soon, but i don't care about being suspicious. i'm not on trial or some shit. i'm here because i don't share my " _feelings_ " with anyone. i'm here because i'm a liability. i'm here because my parents don't know what the hell to do with me anymore.

"i know being a teenager is tough, brendon. you have a lot going on up there, and you need to let some of it out. i'm here for you, yeah? we all are. we all care for you," i shake my head,

"how many other hopeless kids have you said that to today? this week? it's your job to care, so therefore it's invalid. i said it once, and i'll say it again: fuck off" dr. joesph stands up, and this sudden movement startles me so that i hurl myself to the back of the chair. he makes his way over to the door without so much as sparing me a glance. he peers his head out and ushers my parents in.

and, here we are. back at square one. 

\--

i blink and i'm back in my room. i shut my door to seperate me and my lecturing mom. i sit at my desk chair and once again call ryan. oh, please pick up. 

_ring, ring, ring._

i stare at my screen blankly. he's probably still hanging out with his friends or something. i cover my face with my hands.

no. i know he's not. i know very well where he is. i slap my forehead and stifle a sob. don't do it. it's so stupid, you have no idea what you're doing.

**bdenxX:** _you okay? don't do anything stupid_

**☼ryan's pov☼  
**

run. that's all my mind is able of comprehending. 

_run._

after fleeing jon, i strolled off to the dirt road once again. i knew jon wasn't ballsy enough to follow me, so i didn't see any excuse to go anywhere unexpected. i'd laid there until sundown, when the shadows from the tres began to extend across the ground.

i'd had plenty time to think. and think, is what i did. and, i decided something. i decided i was going to leave. i have nothing left here anyways. 

so, now as the sun creeps down into the earth, i'm running through the dainty town towards my house. i sneak in through my window, as usual, and bound downstairs-making as little noise as possible.

i find dad sprawled out across the couch, beer bottles abandoned on the side-table. passed out. i spot his jacket hanging on the rack next to the door and make my way towards it. i peer back at him once more before slinking my hand into the pocket[of his jacket], soon grasping his wallet. i open it and frown. what was i fucking expecting? i sigh, throwing it into it's former spot and slink back into the kitchen. i know where he keeps his beer fund.

grabbing a quick two hundred, i make my way back up the stairs and into my room. i shove the money into my own wallet and fish out my school-bag. i begin to pack an assortment of clothes, toiletries and all that boring shit when i finally notice a notification from my computer.

it's from brendon.

**itsryro:** _my number is ###-###-####_

_**bdenxX:** ryan please dont do whatever you're going to do. _

**itsryro:** _i have nothing left  where i am, bren. i have no friends, no girlfriend, my dad could care less about my wellbeing_

**itsryro:** _im running away, ok?_

**bdenxX:** _ryan fucking stop and think about what your doing. fuck let me skype you please_

**itsryro:** _there's nothing else i can do bren!_

incoming skype call. i answer.

"ryan, fucking calm down. please don't do this" brendon's voice comes into focus. for once he isn't as well-groomed. his hair is a mess and he looks to be wearing pjs, which, come to think of it ihaven't seen him in yet.

"brendon, you don't get it, yeah? i have nothing here, absolutely nothing, so-"

"that doesn't give you the right to just run away and put yourself in danger! there's fucking creeps out there, people can hurt you," brendon pleads and i can tell he's scared on my behalf. i almost feel bad.

"i've already been hurt, b. please, let me do this. i'm almost legal, i've practically taken care of myself since i was a fucking toddler. you have no right to assume what's best for me," i snap back, continuing to pack my bag. 

"ryan, you're not thinking straight. just wait for morning at least and see what you think once you're fully rested" brendon says, leaning forward with sad eyes.

"i know this is right. i know i can be better if i leave this rotten fucking town,"

"ryan, please, just si-"

"can you please stop trying to stop me!? i'm not going to stay here! nobody fucking cares anymore and i think it's time i just exit their lives!" i bark, throwing the shirt i had in my hand to the ground. i can't bring myself to look at brendon as i glare daggers into my carpet flooring.

" _i_ care about you ryan! what the fuck, this is so wrong just fucking stop! shit, ryan, please!" brendon chokes on his words and it's then that i look up.

he's crying. of course he is. i want to scream at him and call him a wuss and tell him to fuck off, but... i can't.

"brendon, fuck i'm-" i race towards the screen and sit down, gazing intently at the boy who's breaking down in front of me.

"shut up, i'm fine," i watch him furiously wipe away tears and it tugs at my heart, "please just don't do this," my lips part slightly, but i can't seem to form words, "for me if not for anyone else," i rub my neck and look anywhere but at brendon. this beautiful boy. why is he so worried for me? 

"ryan, say it. please," i look up at brendon. his doe eyes and trembling lip. 

"i-i won't run away," i lie.

 


	9. ✧chapter 9✧

✦ **ryan's pov** ✦

from here it's all about strategy. i'll be frank with you, i have no idea what the fuck i'm getting into, and to be honest, brendon's probably right. but, i know what's good for me. i believe our purpose in life is to have an impact, and generally, i doubt i'll be of any impact in a fucking nobodies town in tennesse. 

so, i'm off to hopefully brendon's house. i have no idea where he lives, but again, all about strategy. i'm heading off to nashville tonight. hitch-hiking mostly, i'd hope, but who knows what's out there.

but, all i can think about is the stimulating sense of freedom i can feel rattling my very essence as i walk down the dirt path. i never thought i'd leave, honest to god. and leaving is truly an experience like no other. 

i revel in the moment as i tilt my head towards the dark, cloudless sky. the wind tousles my hair and other than the crunch of my boots, silence overwhelms me. out into the big bad world i go. my rugged knapsack hangs from my shoulders, a wad of cash stuffed in my jeans and the open road. nothing has ever felt so right.

\--

nothing has ever felt so wrong.

here i am, 1 in the  _fucking_  morning, curled up into the rather smelly back-seat of a van with three other dudes (brothers from what i've caught on from their conversation). said van zooms along the highway while the two up front practically scream along to the lyrics of some underground band.

"can you guys shut up for one fucking second! my ears are bleeding and my hairs a bloody mess!" the boy beside me complains-rather loudly-, attempting to flatten down his hair from his hand mirror. why he'd care about the state of his hair in this situation is beyond me.

"oh come off it, sebby. just having fun, unlike you'd know anything about that" the one driving retorts. he has ravenous black hair that's gelled up in spikes with a portion lying flat in the back, like a short mullet. he has red eyeshadow rimming his eyes. 

the boy in shotgun sniggers at this as he waves his hand out the window. he, on the other hand, has rather normal chesnut hair that sweeps past his shoulders. however, his pirate hat is what turns me off most. 

bunch of lunies i've come across.

"well, even still, i'm sure mr. quiet and mysterious isn't enjoying your antics, ain't ya?" i cast 'seb' a glance and shrug. "mute or something?"

"no" i deadpan. seb laughs at this, 

"only joking. nah, i get it. prolly think we're insane, don't ya? don't worry, we don't bite," i force out a smile before returning to the window. grass fields, everywhere. more land and grass than i've ever seen in my life.

the two in the front continue singing along to their song and the boy in the back continues being annoyed. i'm already so done with this.

\--

it's around two when the three brothers drop me off in nashville. their rowdy van bounces off into the distance and before i know it i'm alone again. for some reason i almost miss those eccentric dudes. almost. not at all really.

i gaze around and a gust of finality sweeps over me. this is for real. this isn't some little scenario i've played out before falling asleep. i've escaped my home. i'm actually doing something for myself. i take a shaky breath. this is only the start.

i'm somewhere downtown. where? well, fuck me if i know. several smaller buildings line the street with skyscrapers reaching out behind them. everything is so big and so flashy. neon signs beckon to me, the skyscrapers taunt me, the darkness secludes everything so as to pretend it never happened in the first place. what really wows me is the lights. in leiper's fork you can easily come out at this time of night to find everything pitch black. here, you might be fooled it's day.

i take a step forward, still awed. how can something so mesmerizing exist? how have i never known about this? 

a car races past and sends a mist of water flying. i leap at the sudden noise and settle into my body again. oh shit, i need to catch a bus to new york. i take out my phone. 2:11am. i yawn into my fist and look around again. there aren't too many people out, but still too many people for me to get used to walking down the street at once. 

i slide against one of the shop walls and watch everyone as they walk past. from what i've heard from other people, this is nothing compared to what happens in big cities during the day. but, still. it's like a never-ending sea of people. person after person after person just walking down the street. fucking rad.

a bus. that's right. i need to catch a bus to new york. i sigh and rearrange my fringe again. why do buses even exist anymore? it's 2004, shouldn't we already have flying cars or something? but, that's beside the point because i need to catch a bus and i don't know where the buses are. i don't know where anything is! but, how could you anyways! everything here is so big and flashy. i get sidetracked by everything how am i supposed to catch a fucking-

"hey there, you lost kiddo?" the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. i calm my breathing to the best of my ability and slowly crane my neck to the side. a lady has perched against the wall next to me. she's wearing a baggy hoodie and some even baggier camo pants.

"um- no. i'm not." i tell her, forcing myself not to scream and sprint away. why did i fucking do this. why did i think it'd be a good idea to run away from home? fuck i should've listened to brendon.

"oh? well, what's a pretty little boy like you doing out so late?" she asks, sweet in tone, but her face shows otherwise. not that she's necessarily glaring at me. just that she's somewhat... off-putting. she seems to sense my nervousness-like a bloodhound i swear to god- and sends me a short-lived grin,

"oh, i know what you're thinking, bucko. i'm not gonna kidnap you," she chuckles, but i don't join her.

"i-i think i'll be off actually. i probably should be getting home.." i muster an awkward chuckle, waving as i speed-walk away, this time ignoring all the pretty lights.

fuck this shit. fuck this stupid city. fuck my little nobodies village. fuck that creepy ass lady. fuck me for being as stupid and naive as thinking all my problems would go away if i met brendon.

brendon.

i've royally fucked up, haven't i?

\--

"oi kid, fuck off would ya?" my eyes fluttered open to be met with those of a stranger. my mouth parts to say something, but i find no words in my grogginess, "well move now won't cha'! fokin' asked ya' nicely" 

"s-sorry" i stammer, stumbling to my feet and finally registering the man's face. and his face, is not something i would recommend waking to. i subconciously flinch and tighten my grip on my bag. i watch him as he shakes his head, clicking his tongue.

"kids.." he mutters, beginning to walk off down the alleyway i'd crashed in just this morning. i have just enough time to collect my wits to shout,

"wait!" the man turns and i almost regret calling him back, before realizing i need this. i'm stranded in goddamn nashville with plans to go to new york to see my best friend. i'm not giving up because i  _happen_  to not know where the buses are. 

"d-do you happen to know where the buses that go out of town are?" i rub my eyes and lean against the brick of the building next to me. sleep is so overrated.

the man gives me a 'hmph' and shakes his head once more, "runnin' away then, i'm guessin'? bad mistake there bucko." he crosses his arms. i have the nerve to bark at him to stop judging everything i say, but think better of it. i need this dude to at least give me directions before i cuss out his sorry ass. he vaguely gestures behind me.

"just off a few blocks from 'ere. turn right then left. can't miss it. good luck out there" with that he heads off into the building, shutting the door behind him. i sigh and rest my head against the wall. 

bullshit. this is all bullshit.

but, at least i actually know where the buses are now. thanks bitch.

i scrunch up my nose in one last attempt at displaying my discontentment with the situation and head towards the direction the man pointed to. my bag feels heavy on my shoulder and i'm too tired to gawk at the onslaught of people pouring down the sidewalk. just one foot in front of the other and take it from there.

with the bat of an eye i'm approaching the bus station. i duck through the crowd and dart across the parking lot to the entrance of said station. i nod mindlessly to the woman who holds the door open for me and slip inside. just run through the motions. god i'm so fucking tired.

i run a hand through my hair and take a quick glance around the place. dirty. it's really dirty. smelly, at that. there are some booths to my right where i guess you buy tickets. hanging from the ceiling is a list of locations that the buses are departing to soon and to my left are a plethora of seats organized by row. 

i tuck my hand into my pocket and run my fingers along the money. i breathe a breath of relief of finding it still there. call me paranoid, but i think i'm justified in thinking i might've been robbed overnight. let's hope this lucky-streak continues.

with a nervous gulp i head towards the lines infront of the booths and settle into a decently sized one. this is when another bout of ' _oh shit! maybe...'_ overcomes me and i reach into my other pocket. i sigh when my fingers brush my phone. okay, thank god i-

_ping_

my stomach leaps into my throat and i feel like a deer caught in the headlights. with a shaky hand i pull out my phone and turn in on.

_new message from **brendon**!_

shit.

my breathing wavers and my eyes bulge. the one thing i couldn't let happen. the one thing that could tear me inside out. i need him. without him what am i supposed to do? why did he have to come into my life. i could've taken the easy route out, but no. he had to come and dash my plans to smithereens. i've never felt so vulnerable.

i unlock my phone and open the messenger app. fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. 

brendon:  ** _ffs ryan y r u doing this?_**

brendon: _**please just dont hurt yourself**_

ryan: **_what r u talking abt?_ **

brendon: **_don't play dumb with me_ **

it felt as if my heart left back at my window sill had been thrown into an avalanche.  _how does he know_. what is he going to do? hate me?

my mouth dries and i open it uselessly. since when have i become to reliant on him? why does it matter so much that he's okay with this? my well-being has been placed in his possession and it's his turn to roll the die.

ryan:  ** _brendon i had no choice just... i thought i could live w/ u..._**

brendon:  ** _omg ry... youre impossible._**

i stumble forward in line and peer up momentarily. just two more people until me. tears prick at my eyes. i'm stronger than this shit! i squeeze them shut until my phone vibrates.

brendon: _**im at *censored address*. just be careful and take care of yourself. ill c what i can do 4 u**_

this time i couldn't hold back my tears. they race down my cheeks as i stand stock-still.  _he said yes_. it was as if i'd prepared myself so much for the worst, receiving the best feels almost ethereal. i choke back a sob.

_he said yes._

then i almost trip over my legs as i venture further through my thoughts.

_i'm going to meet brendon._

i smile disbelievingly. it's almost a dream. after everything. all the bullshit. i'm going to meet him. i have the nerve to laugh and barely manage to type out a reply.

ryan:  ** _omfg thank you sm bren_**

with that i reach the front of the line to purchase my ticket that will lead me to my new life.

 


	10. ✧chapter 10✧

✦ **brendon's pov** ✦

i hug my arms to my torso as i watch cars race past. it's overcast and i can't help but regret not bringing my jacket, but that's beside the point. the point is ryan should be here any second now. a grin spreads across my lips despite the bitter october wind pelting against me. 

a few moments pass and i tug my nokia from my pocket and check it once more. 

brendon:  _ **u almost here?**_

ryan:  _ **i think so... jesus this city is so big**_

i find myself laughing and my cheeks heat up. 

brendon:  _ **lol tru but ur gonna hav to get used to it**_

ryan:  _ **haha i guess**_

i lift my head and scan the street again, watching for the familiar head of chestnut hair. it's then that i see a lanky boy rounding the corner, hands buried in his leather jacket. our eyes met and my mouth goes dry. it's just instinct when i find myself sprinting towards him. ryan stands stock-still, staring at me as i bound towards him.

"ryan!" i screech as i launch myself towards him. my arms lock around his neck, my legs wrapping around him. he stumbles back, but eventually regains his balance.

"brendon"

\--

my eyes fly open.

"brendon"

my father's face greets me from my slumber and i groan. i was almost expecting ryan. not in this universe. a groggy smile finds it's way to my lips.

"c'mon, get up brenny. we have to go pick up your brother" my body lurches from my bed.

"what?" 

my dad protrudes a lopsided grin; one of our many similar mannerisms, "yeah. let's go," i stare wide-eyed in shock. not necessarily surprised i have a brother all of a sudden, but rather that i didn't have a dream about this before... unless i'm dreaming now. 

i pinch my arm, causing my father to laugh. he grabs my arm and lifts me to stand, "get dressed quick. mom's waiting,"

"uh- okay?" eventually my father exits, leaving me frozen in thought. i  _always_  know what happens. i  _always_ guess right! what the fuck is going on? i pace to my closet and tug at my hair. this better not be foreshadowing. i swear on god almighty. i swallow the lump in my throat and shuffle through my clothes. i settle on a black t-shirt, black jeans and my prized lavender hoodie and call it a day.

\--

when i leave my room i'm greeted with the gleaming face of my mother. she reaches her hand out for me to take, but i slip my hands into my pockets. 

"what's this about, mom?" i ask, leaving no room for pleasantries that my mother holds so dear. she drops her hand to her side with a grimace. i still can't wrap my head around me having a brother. did mom and dad not tell me that i have a brother? surely i would know by now. unless they're adopting. why in the world would mom and dad need to adopt? they have me.

"we're adopting a boy." i choke on air. 

"what!?" i practically shout. my eyebrows seem to lift from my forehead and eyes abandon my sockets. what in the world would prompt my parents to adopt a kid? they're so worn out with me as it is! i can't help but notice the bags lining my mother's eyes or the way my dad cracks his back, "why the fuck do you need another kid?" i add with a sneer.

"language, brendon!" she sighs and drags her hand down her face. "just go into the car. we'll talk about it later"

"no, we'll talk about it now. why and when, mom! why?!" i run my hand through my hair and stare at my mom with pleading eyes. she averts her gaze and stalks towards the door. i reluctantly follow.

\--

"how old is he?"

"16"

"why do you need another teenage boy?"

"brendon, you're distracting your father"

"well, what's his name?"

"james"

"where's he from?"

"somewhere in tennessee. i can't remember exactly"

"mom, he could be a serial killer and we'd never know"

"brendon!"

"i'm serious!"

"i know. now be more polite. we're here"

the car rolls up to the curb of the building, which is a large rectangular structure with windows lining the walls. concrete stairs led to a porch which contains rectangular poles supporting the roof. i exit the car and watch as dad tells mom he's going to park the car in the parking lot, which is behind the building. i met mom's eyes and she quickly looks away and nods. she doesn't seem happy to be spending quality time with me.

we stare at the car in silence as dad pulls away. i glare at the back of my mother's head, vying for her attention and when i finally receive such i'm cut off with a curt hand gesture.

"brendon, i know you're not happy about all of this, but you must understand we're not doing this for us."

"why mom? i just want to know why!" i reply, trying to regulate my emotions, but failing, as i usually do, "we don't have time for another teenage boy! am i not good enough?" my voice falters as she meets my gaze. i expect to find some type of softness in her eyes, but come up empty handed. hard, cold brown eyes scan me instead of the usual warm chocolate ones. i suddenly have a strong yearning for ryan.

"this isn't about that, brendon. never say that again." though, it doesn't feel like she's comforting me. it feels as if i'm a child again, being scolded for being late for school. 

"i don't understand it, mom," i reply, wringing my hands, "i don't want a brother." just another person to hate me. another person to chide me. another person to disappoint.

"it's for god brendon. when i first saw james, i knew god wanted us to adopt him" grace answers. i cuss under my breath and run a hand through my hair. not this again.  _not this again._  i feel tears pricking my eyes and turn away. "brendon, look at me."

"what's going on here?" my chest heaves  and i force myself not to succumb to my memories.  _it wasn't right what he did. it's not true._  

"nothing. let's go get james." i hear my mother's heels click against the concrete path and i follow without speaking to my dad. he doesn't question it. never does anyways.

we enter into what looks to be a waiting room. a desk sits at the left side of the room and chairs line the other wall. a hallway is placed in the center of the back wall and i can distantly hear the hum of conversation. i stick my hands into my pockets and look anywhere but my mom and the receptionist lady. they're talking about something to do with my new brother. the word tastes horrible even in my mind.

i have a new brother. james. i already hate him.

i blink from my stupor as i feel my father's hand resting on my shoulder. he pushes me towards the hallway where my mom already stands. "be nice, brendon."

b e  n i c e  b r e n d o n.

we walk into a square room with dull beige wallpaper. a wooden desk sits in the center with bookshelves surrounding it. a middle-aged man sits behind the desk with a boy standing next to him with a duffle-bag in his hands. serial killer. i knew it.

"ok, mr. and mrs. urie, i need you to sign the last couple contracts then you're on your way," the man behind the desk states. my parents step forward, unbeknownst to the fact that me and james are having a staring contest. i fix him with a glare, him meeting me head-on with a face resembling a truce. i decline.

i take a moment to review the boy. he sports straight greasy brown hair, lighter than mine, but by no means dirty-blond, which is swiped to the side in a classic fringe. he's about my height with blue eyes like my father. he has a friendly face, to say the least, but nothing too attractive. like a younger brother. well, guess he is my brother.

my mom approaches him and it's then we break eye contact. she smiles at him, and he reciprocates it with his own nervous one. he jumps when she touches his shoulder, but grace doesn't notice. she's too blind to herself to notice anything but herself. 

i can tell by my dad's furrowed brow that he did notice. he produces a tight-lipped smile, but says nothing. they're both as bad as each-other. 

as a family we make our way back to the car. dad helps james pile his things into the trunk and we're on our way. 

mom grins at us from the front-seat. "Well, boys? You're brothers! How exciting is that?" She enthuses, eyes flashing excitedly. 

"if you wanted me to be excited you should've offered to set me up for adoption," i retort. i look out the window to spare myself from witnessing my mother's reaction. i don't care anymore. i'm wondering if i ever really did? if i ever cared about swearing in front of my parents. if i ever cared if i was going to offend anybody. the only thing i care about is ryan and he's 907 miles away. 

that's when i remember it. my dream. the car halts to a stop and i'm flung forward in the car-seat. ryan'scomingtonewyork?

my jaw drops and i grip the driver's seat in front of me to stabilize myself. "holy shit," i mutter, staring at the floor in disbelief. but, he said he wouldn't. he said he was going to stay put. tears well up in my eyes. he's not safe.

"brendon, are you okay?" my mom's voice echoes through one ear and out the other. it's like i'm floating, looking down on myself hunched over in the back of my dad's car with a stranger who has been dubbed my brother. 

but, who cares about that. ryan's in danger. i whip my head around and i'm certain i appear insane. i press the button to unlock the car and open my door. i can hear my dad yelling, my mother shrieking. cars skid on their brakes and i dart across the road. i don't need to look to know my family is freaking out. poor james. now he has to deal with them too.

i sprint back the way we came, slinking between pedestrians and eventually finding an empty alleyway. i veer into the space and duck behind a tower of cardboard boxes. i flip open my phone and text ryan. tears are rimming my eyes and i furiously rub them away while i wait for a response. 

i know he's going to be okay, in the end. he'll be with me and everything will be fine, but who knows anymore. i didn't dream about james. maybe my psychic dreams are dwindling. maybe all that bullshit therapy worked. 

then he replies. 

i take large inhales of breath and laugh hysterically. i sense wet clumps rolling down my cheeks, but i ignore them. doesn't matter anyways. ryan is okay. 

i text him back and fix my eyes on the sky above. it's a lovely day. the sun shines down on the city with few clouds dotting the sky. a light breeze skims my face with just enough of a frozen undertone to detect winter arriving soon. but, who gives a shit. ryan is okay. ryan is safe. ryan is coming to see me soon.

and here i am. ugly crying in a dank alley way on some random street in new york. crying because my i'm going to meet my friend. crying because suddenly the world makes sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is actual shit, but i'm just trying to put everything down so i can rewrite it later. sorry!


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